


What Now?

by verucasalt123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Sibling Incest, Unresolved Sexual Tension, disrespectful treatment of a female character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-series. Sam ends up with a baby, and copes as long as he can on his own. Now that Dean's there to help, it's tough to hide the way they feel for too much time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/verucasalt123/pic/000194et/)

Sam wasn’t exactly sure how they’d ended up where they were, it had all happened so quickly. 

So, yeah, the whole Stanford thing hadn’t worked out the way he’d hoped. Two years in, his girlfriend Nicole told him she was pregnant and was planning to have an abortion. For about half an hour, he was all right with that. He never planned to have any kind of serious long term _thing_ with this girl, so having a baby with her wasn’t on the top of his wish list. But that half an hour was all he got. He begged her, pleaded, promised her everything under the sun if she would just have the baby, _please_. He didn’t know where it came from, but it was a sudden instinctual feeling, this baby was **his** , and whatever this girl he’d been sleeping with for the past few months ended up doing, he couldn’t stand the thought of her having an abortion. Maybe it was the leftover tenderness he felt toward his brother, all the work Dean had put into raising him when they had no mother and a father who was half out of his mind. Maybe he thought he could pay it forward. Maybe he was just selfish and arrogant and used to getting whatever he wanted. Whatever. 

When that didn’t work, he resorted to intimidation. Knowing it was wrong didn’t stop him, Sam knew he was good at it, and it worked for a little while. When he felt the girl trying to assert herself, he turned to the last resource he had, and one that he knew would work – money. The offer of money worked even better than his scare tactics, and an agreement was reached.

He filled out the paperwork for federal financial aid, which he didn’t need, because his tuition was already covered by a scholarship, and when he got the money, he gave almost every cent of it to Nicole. The fact that he was pretty much buying this baby crossed his mind, but he pushed it aside, unable to process how horrifically immoral it was. He didn’t care. Sam moved into her apartment, went with her on the bus to all her doctor’s appointments, and stolidly ignored her resentment toward him. He slept on her couch, watched over her like one of those guys in a crazy Lifetime Channel movie, and waited. 

The months passed in a blur, and Sam found himself hailing a taxi at 2:30 in the morning in the dead of winter, escorting his ex-girlfriend to the teaching hospital that would accept her Medicaid benefits and watching silently by her bedside as she labored, cursing him out in every possible way, swearing she never wanted to see his face again.

That was fine with Sam. He really didn’t give a shit about the girl anyway. 

There was still a chance she could change her mind, though, and that was what he gave a shit about. He wasn’t about to let Nicole back out of their agreement, and he was prepared to do whatever was necessary for him to take possession of his son or daughter (Medicaid wouldn’t pay for a sonogram just to find out the baby’s gender, so he had no idea which it was). It turned out that his worries were unfounded, though, when finally the baby was born, a perfect beautiful boy, and she refused to even look at the child or at Sam, just saying for him to “take it away”. Sam barely registered the concern of the nurses attending the new mother, the hard and angry look on Nicole’s face, the lecture he suffered through from the hospital social worker. All he saw was the baby, the boy who would be his, as he signed document after document and realized, finally, that he had gotten what he wanted. The girl insisted to all the hospital staff that she was willingly giving this baby to “its” father, and she wanted nothing more to do with any of the proceedings. 

It was a whole day before he realized that the boy had been born on January 24th. Son of a bitch. Wasn’t that just something.

Sam wasn’t even there when she was discharged from the hospital two days later, figuring she ought to be able to figure out herself how to get a bus or a cab back to her place. He’d already packed the one small bag of his meager belongings and removed it from Nicole’s apartment. 

The small amount of money Sam had kept from the federal loan he obtained months ago was used to put down a deposit and a few months of rent on a one-bedroom apartment in a crappy neighborhood. He didn’t bother to register for classes. His education was no longer a priority, hell, it was barely even a blip on his radar when he looked at the baby. He had to pick a name to put on the birth certificate before the left the hospital ( _how had he forgotten to think of a name?_ ), so he’d settled on James Caleb Winchester. He signed the papers and hustled out the front door with his son swaddled in hospital blankets and a bag full of free samples of pre-mixed formula and diapers.

Facts were facts, though. The money he earned from his construction job barely covered daycare costs and utilities, let alone diapers and food. Sam swallowed his pride and applied for public assistance. It took care of more than half of his daycare fees, made sure the baby could get his vaccinations, and provided him with coupons that the local grocery store accepted in exchange for specific foods like baby formula, cheese, milk and peanut butter. Things could be better, but they could be worse. He did the best he could to keep his son warm when there was no heat, and he lived on the food he got from the grocery coupons. He’d never paid taxes, so it’s not like he was really entitled to the help, but he took it anyway.

Six months passed. James was teething and Sam was up all night trying to comfort him. His work suffered from his lack of sleep, but he soldiered on the best he could. 

One night, after eating peanut butter from a jar with a spoon for dinner and pacing the length of his tiny shitty apartment trying to soothe his gassy and teething son as best he could, he folded. If Sam was honest with himself, he had to admit it was surprising that he’d made it this long.

He picked up his phone, and dialed the only number he still had in it. Nothing identifying, just “D”. 

A sleepy voice greeted him on the other end of the line. “Sammy?”

“Yeah, Dean, it’s me. I’m so sorry to call in the middle of the night, but…I need help. Please.”

Sam waited to see what kind of reaction he would get, after having disappeared without a word for more than two years. His heart nearly broke at the response.

“Are you in Palo Alto?”

“Yeah, I mean, close, just outside. I have an apartment, uh…”

“Give me the address. I’ll be there tomorrow night.”

And fuck if Sam knew how he was going to explain all this to Dean. But he was clear-headed enough to know that he couldn’t do it on his own anymore. He rattled off the address, and they hung up. There was nothing he could do now but wait for 16 hours, and try to figure out what he was going to say when Dean showed up and saw him there with a son. 

Finally, Sam got the baby settled down and they both got a couple hours of desperately needed sleep. Jay woke him with the sun, though, hungry again but not fussy, thank goodness. Sam wasn’t sure when exactly the nickname had been born, he guessed he just thought James was too formal and he didn’t really like Jim or Jimmy, so Jay it was. He balanced the boy on one hip while he mixed a bottle then settled onto the ratty brown Goodwill sofa he’d picked up one week when he’d gotten some overtime pay. 

Since the weather had been nice for the past month or two, Sam started taking Jay to the park on Sunday afternoons and letting him show off his new sitting up and belly-crawling skills in the grass. One of the moms he met there, who had three kids, chuckled as she watched Sam unwrap a bottle from one of those chemical heat-packs you can get at the drugstore. “First baby, huh?” she asked.

“Um, yeah. I didn’t have any experience with babies before him, so I’m kind of winging it”, he replied with an embarrassed tone. “Are the heat-packs bad?”

The woman smiled at him reassuringly and said, “No, they’re not bad. But I’ll tell you a secret.” She leaned in close and stage-whispered, “ _You can give them a bottle at room temp, they don’t really have to be heated_. It’s true. You can also just wash the bottles in your sink, they don’t have to be sterilized in boiling water. And when Ellie drops her pacifier”, nodding toward her toddler, “I just wipe it off on my shirt sleeve and stick it back in her mouth. By the time you get to baby number three, you learn that all those things in the baby books are nice, but not really **necessary**.”

Sam gave her a grateful look and thanked her for the advice. “It’s just that I don’t really have anyone else to ask about these things, it’s just me and Jay, so the books are all I’ve got.”

“Hey, look at how you and I grew up. Yeah, it’s great that babies are safer and more comfortable with carseats and bottle-warmers and those sanitizing wipes they have for the grocery store carts, but some of it is a bit over the top. I think it’s kind of a racket, you know, people selling books to first-time parents, scaring them half to death with _worst-case-scenario_. You learn to relax after a while, believe me.”

“Thanks”, Sam responded with a genuine smile. “I do the best I can but sometimes…”

The as-yet-un-introduced woman cut him off there. “You just said all there is. You do the best you can. Nobody’s perfect all the time, but you love your kids, you put all your effort into keeping them safe, so what else can you do?”

Experience definitely counted when it came to parenting, Sam had learned. He was exceptionally grateful for this stranger’s reassurance, and he’d taken her words to heart. 

Snapping himself back to the moment, he realized that Jay had drained his bottle. Remembering what he had coming later in the day, he settled his son into the playpen he’d picked up at a yard sale a month ago and went about the task of making his apartment look presentable. He put clean sheets and pillowcases on his bed, (ok, so technically it wasn’t a _bed_ , just a mattress on the floor), intending to let Dean sleep there tonight if he didn’t turn around and walk right back out as soon as he arrived. That wasn’t going to happen, Sam told himself, Dean would at least stay the night, surely. Sam could sleep on the sofa and he’d move Jay’s bassinet into the living room for the inevitable middle of the night demand for food and comfort. He’d meant to get a crib, but the bassinet was still plenty big enough for the baby, and he wasn’t able to push himself up yet, so Sam figured he had a little more time. Not much, though. He continued the tasks in front of him on auto-pilot – wiping down the counters in the small galley kitchen, sweeping the wood floors and scrubbing every surface in the tiny bathroom. 

He at least wanted Dean to know that he kept the baby in a place that was neat and clean, even if he still felt like he had no **fucking** clue how to be a father, even if he still felt like everything he did was just a guess. 

Popping his head back into the living room, he saw Jay contentedly shaking his little stuffed dog, the one that had a rattle inside it so it made kind of a ringing sound when it was moved around. It was his favorite toy, by far, not that he had a whole lot of toys. 

It seemed like time was dragging by at an excruciatingly slow pace. In the middle of the afternoon, Sam’s phone rang. 

“Hey.” God, he hoped he didn’t sound as pathetic as he felt.

“I’m about half an hour out from your place, I think. You all right?” Dean’s voice was everything Sam remembered – calm, assuring, totally in control.

“Yeah, I – yeah, I’m okay, Dean, thanks for doing this.”

Dean chuckled, that little laugh that he used to deflect serious emotional conversations. “What else would I do, Sam? See you soon.”

All of a sudden, the passing of time shifted into fast-forward. He changed the baby’s diaper, got him into the one firsthand, store-bought outfit he owned, and there was a knock on the door.

Sam had debated how to handle this moment, and decided on the the most direct method. He rested Jay on his hip, his left arm curling the baby into his side, and reached his right hand out to open the door. 

Just the sight of his brother’s face after all this time nearly brought him to tears. Since it was summer, he didn’t have the familiar leather jacket on, but he was the same as Sam remembered him, dressed in jeans, boots, and an ancient t-shirt with a faded Motorhead logo on it. He wanted to put his arms around Dean and hug him, but he couldn’t. First of all, because one of his arms was currently occupied, and secondly, because Dean was standing there staring at him like he was a space alien, or Bigfoot, or something else he knew for sure did not exist. 

Clearing his throat, he moved back a step. “Please come in, Dean, thank you, God, thank you for coming.” He was losing the battle against the tears welling up in his eyes. 

Dean walked into the apartment, and Sam shut the door, locking both deadbolts behind him. Still staring, Dean finally opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again as if he wasn’t really sure what to say. But he tried again. “So, uh…whose baby is that?”

“He’s mine, Dean. His name is James Caleb, but I just call him Jay.”

“Guess we’ve got more catching up to do than I thought, Sam. Honestly, I was afraid you were sick or…sorry, I know this sounds bad, I thought maybe drugs or something. This”, he gestured toward the baby, “is definitely not what I expected.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I thought I could handle it on my own, but I’m just so tired and I never know if what I’m doing is right, and I’m afraid sometimes that I might lose my job or get evicted and end up homeless and then how would I take care of him, and I get so scared, Dean, so scared, and you know, you know about babies, because you raised me just about on your own, and…” at this point Sam’s tears were flowing freely and he realized he was _babbling_ and probably very nearly incoherent.

“All right, man, all right, just calm down and help me figure out what’s going on here, okay?”

Sam put his best effort into getting his emotions back under some semblance of control and gestured toward the couch. They sat down, Sam shifting Jay into his lap, and Dean asked him to start from the beginning. 

By the time Sam had explained how he ended up on his own with a baby, with only a few brief questions thrown in by Dean, he’d calmed down significantly, grounded just by the presence of his older brother. But the truth was still out there, the reason why he’d called Dean in the first place. “I’ve managed to hold it together, mostly, until now, but I’m so tired, Dean. I’m just so **tired** and I’m scared all the time and I don’t know what to do.” The next sentence took every bit of his pride, but he’d already come this far, and there was no point in pretending. “I just don’t think I can keep this up by myself. I need help.”

Dean nodded his head and reached out to touch his brother’s arm in an attempt to be supportive and assuring. His own eyes were glossing over with tears by now, realizing that his baby brother had been shouldering this own his own for so long. “If I had called you on your birthday, I might have found out about all this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t. 

“I didn’t call you on your birthday, either. I was kind of caught up in Jay being born and having to sign a bunch of stupid hospital paperwork.”

“Are you…”

“Yeah. He was born on January 24th”, Sam replied with a small grin.

“Can I hold him?”

“You want to?” asked Sam, still teary and a little shaky from his confession. 

“Yeah, ‘course I do, he’s my nephew. We got a lot to figure out but for right now, just let me hold him a minute, all right?”

Sam handed the baby over and Dean gathered him into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. He breathed a sigh of relief watching his brother looking down at Jay with wonder and open affection. “Wow. 20 years ago, man, this was you”, he said, smiling up at Sam. Jay was staring at this new face in front of him without any signs of being confused or anxious. “You look like your Daddy”, Dean told him, poking him in the belly, which earned him a giggle from the baby. 

“He likes me. Obviously. Even the baby thinks I’m better lookin’ than you, Sam.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Sam sighed, surprised to find himself laughing. He knew there was lots of serious talking to be done, but for now he just let himself enjoy his brother’s banter for now, comforted just by his presence and casual remarks. 

“I thought I’d make us some dinner if that’s okay.”

“ _Cook us dinner_? Seriously? Wow. Is it gonna be safe to eat?”

“Man, shut up, I’ve managed to learn a thing or two in the past couple of years, jerk.” Sam was trying to blow it off, but the truth was he’d almost set fire to the kitchen several times and had made himself sick twice undercooking chicken. He’d never been a genius in the kitchen, but there were certain things even Sam couldn’t fuck up. He put on a pot of water and poured a jar of store-brand spaghetti sauce into the only other pot he owned. While he waited for the water to boil, he watched Dean lay on the floor making funny faces at Jay and shaking his little stuffed dog, making the baby giggle and roll around. Right this minute, everything felt a little surreal. 

Sam poured a box of pasta into the boiling water and stirred, not noticing when Dean walked up behind him with Jay half over his shoulder, laughing and squirming. He opened the fridge. 

“No beer, dude?”

Sam froze. He didn’t want to turn around, he knew his face was flushed with embarrassment and he tried to come up with some kind of excuse. He was 21 now, it wasn’t like he couldn’t buy beer. But the truth was, he couldn’t _buy_ beer. He felt like a moron. He should have thought of it, he should have walked down to the corner grocery earlier and at least picked up a cheap six-pack. Jesus, how could he be so **stupid**?

“Uh…sorry, I…um – I guess I…”

He didn’t have to see Dean’s face to know that he’d figured it out. And, of course, found a way to try to erase Sam’s discomfort. 

“Whatever, man, I don’t need beer. But if you want, I’ll go pick it up for us. I saw a store up the street. You want some? We haven’t seen each other for so long, we should celebrate. What do you think?”

“Sure, Dean”, Sam replied, finally forcing himself to turn away from the stove and face his brother, hopefully not giving away his feelings. “That’d be great, if you wouldn’t mind. I should have thought of it earlier.”

“Look, I know we’re easing into this whole _let’s share our feelings_ thing, but this? This bugs you? After all the years we spent as kids measuring out how much milk would last until the end of the week and giving the school lunch ladies **the look** to get extra mashed potatoes? Come on, Sam. Christ. I’ll just run down to the store. You want me to take Jay? I can get your carseat if you tell me which one of those hoopties in the parking lot is yours.”

Aw, fuck. Sam’s face fell again and Dean must have known immediately because it looked like he wanted to swallow his words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

“I don’t have a car, Dean. His daycare is on the bus route on the way to my job. The store is close enough to walk.”

Dean schooled his features and flashed a grin. “Cool. Low maintenance, man. And what the fuck is wrong with me, I haven’t even gotten any details from you about work or school, I’ve been so caught up with this little guy. I’m an ass. No shocker there. Anyway. We’ll walk. Cook my dinner, bitch.”

With that he smirked and turned to walk out the door with Sam’s son, like it was no big deal. Sam wanted to cry again. He was fucking humiliated. He didn’t have his own car. He didn’t even think about spending a few dollars on a six pack of beer because he was so used to never buying anything that wasn’t an absolute necessity. Dean must think he was pathetic. 

He spread butter and garlic powder onto some store-brand sliced bread and stuck it into the oven while he was feeling sorry for himself and dreading the conversation coming later when Dean asked him about school. He knew Sam had a full time job, but Sam hadn’t gotten around to explaining that he’d dropped out of Stanford, and that would not be fun. 

The makeshift garlic bread was on the counter and Sam was draining the pasta when Dean and Jay walked back in with a 12-pack of Heineken. “Smells good, dude. What do you want me to do with the baby?”, Dean asked, as he balanced the boy on his hip and slid the beer into the fridge with his free hand.

Sam motioned toward the high chair, and Dean pulled off the tray, strapped Jay in and locked the tray back in like an expert. Sam looked at him with admiration, and Dean chuckled. “You think I didn’t put you in a high chair a hundred times when you were a baby? Like riding a bike.”

They sat down on the sofa, plates on their laps, after Sam had cut up the pasta and a piece of bread into tiny pieces and set a plate on Jay’s high chair tray. Dean used his ring to uncap two bottles of beer and the two of them ate in relative silence, except for Dean’s occasional chuckles and comments about the mess the baby was making as he shoved handfuls of pasta into his mouth with his left hand. 

“Southpaw, huh?”

“The baby books say it’s too soon to tell. But yeah, maybe.”

“Baby books. Man, I wish I would have had some of those when you were little. I kind of had to guess at everything most of the time.”

“Believe me, Dean, I’m still guessing at everything.” Sam was feeling a little better, partly because he’d been able to feed his brother a non-poisonous dinner, partly because he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had a beer and maybe he’d forgotten how nice that little buzz felt. 

“Seems to me you’re making good guesses, then. No, don’t give me that look. You got your own place here, so it’s not fancy but it’s clean and it has everything the baby needs. You’re making enough money to support the two of you, anyway.”

Sam didn’t answer, just finished his dinner and agreed when Dean agreed to wash the dishes while he cleaned the baby up and settled him into his bassinet, tucked in with his little stuffed dog. 

Once the necessities were taken care of, Dean and Sam settled back onto the sofa and started to talk for real, sipping on a couple more beers.

“So, what kind of work do you do?”

“It’s a construction job. Framing, mostly, some drywall work. It doesn’t pay much but sometimes I can manage to get some overtime.”

“Well, you must be doing all right to support the two of you, right? It’s not like formula and Pampers are cheap.”

Sam figured he might as well just admit it. “Dean, I get public assistance. _Welfare_. It helps me pay for daycare and food. Honestly, I couldn’t get by without it.” His face was hot and he wouldn’t look up from the floor.

Until Dean was quiet for longer than expected. When Sam finally looked at him, Dean’s expression was soft, sympathetic but not pitying. “Sam, do you think Dad wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t move us around and live under the radar all the time when we were kids? You think you should be embarrassed about _that_? We grew up eating food that was bought with fake credit cards and pool-hustling money. At least you’re making an honest living. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Sam. You have to know that.”

Sam must not have looked convinced, because Dean grabbed his chin and moved his head up so they were eye to eye. “Please, you have to know that”, he repeated.

So yeah, Sam nodded, agreed, and oh fuck. Just that one touch – God, he thought he’d buried all this, and here it was sneaking back up on him with one stupid second of his brother’s hand on his skin. Fuck fuck fuck **mother** fuck.

“Right, so, now that we’ve gotten that straight…what about school?”

Aw, man. Mother mother mother fuck _again_. Sam took a deep breath and came out with it.

“I dropped out. I don’t have any plans of going back”, he replied, and waited for the fallout.

“No plans of going back? Really?” Dean responded, one eyebrow quirked up, and a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Dean, don’t give me any shit, okay? It’s not practical. Just working and taking care of Jay on my own is almost more than I can handle, in case you couldn’t already tell since I fucking called you in a panic. I’m pathetic already, practically desperate, and clearly in way over my head. Adding in school is not an option. I doubt I could get my scholarship back, and even if I could, what would it matter? I have to work. Even if I took night classes, what would I do, leave Jay here alone? Conjure money from thin air to pay a babysitter at night? Take him to class with me?”

“Dude, okay, I’m not judging here. Chill. You think I don’t understand the difference between an _ideal_ situation and a _real_ situation? Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“All right. Let’s just take a break from this for a minute. You haven’t told me anything about you or Dad, what you’ve been doing. Catch me up. Please.”

Dean ran his hand over his face, sighed, and looked back up at his brother. “I’m still hunting. Dad’s still hunting. But we’re working solo. We don’t hunt together anymore.”

“How long has that been going on? I didn’t think it was really all that safe to hunt alone, Dean, I don’t get it.”

“After you left, Sam, things just were never the same between me and Dad. After a few months, we decided to split up. He has help when he needs it on hunts, and so do I. We both have people we can call if we have to.”

“So my leaving tore the two of you apart so badly that you’re both in more danger than you would have been otherwise? Awesome. Goddamnit. I’m so fucking”

“Shut up, Sam. What I hate is that you’ve been here all these months with Jay feeling like you couldn’t call us. Couldn’t call _me_. I’ve just been doing what I’m used to. You’ve been tossed into a whole new world completely on your own. I know you better than I know myself, Sam. That stubborn, independent streak of yours…hell, you had it by the time you were Jay’s age. Calling me and saying you weren’t okay on your own is a big deal. You’re trying to put on a show now, but when I first got here, you were telling me the truth. For you to admit that you can’t do this on your own, Jesus, you must have been completely end of the line. That’s what‘s important here.”

“My choices, though, Dean. **All** mine. I decided to leave. I decided to do…all of this. I won’t ever see Jay’s mother again, I’m sure, but the things I did to convince her to give me this baby…I could have let her have the abortion and gone on like nothing happened. This is all me. I thought I could do it, my stupid arrogant ass, and now I don’t know if I can, and on top of that, I’ve dragged you into it, which only proves I’m as selfish as I ever was.” Sam didn’t elaborate about any other reasons he might have had for wanting his brother back in his life. 

“Yeah, right. Wanting something better for yourself than hunting was selfish. Sacrificing the education you worked your ass off for so that you could raise this baby was _selfish_. Sam. Listen to yourself. For Christ’s sake, try to see this from my point of view. Okay, it’s true, you’re stubborn. You came by that trait honestly. And I spoiled you fucking rotten as a kid, so maybe you’re used to having what you want. But this? What you’re doing now? This is what you’re supposed to do. Take responsibility for your actions. Call someone who loves you when you need help. That’s not selfish, you fucking moron, it’s **normal**. Isn’t that what you always told me you wanted? Normal?”

Sam hated himself for it, but he was crying again. His brother just said that he loved him. “This is so fucked up, Dean. I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to keep it up, won’t be able to take care of Jay like I should. Anytime now he’ll be able to push himself up and I won’t be able to keep him in that bassinet anymore. I have to buy a crib, and those are expensive. The baby books say you shouldn’t buy things like cribs second-hand. It might be dangerous.”

“There you go with the baby books again”, Dean replied with a grin. Then he sighed and his expression turned serious once more. “We can figure all of this out, man. I’ve got some ideas, we can talk about it tomorrow. And don’t think for a second we’re done talking about you going back to school. Can the bitchface, that conversation is _not_ over. For now, let’s just try to get caught up.”

Dean got up and cracked open two more beers, handing one to Sam as he sat back down on the couch. “Last month, I decapitated a vampire with a circular saw. It was awesome.”

Sam laughed, really laughed, seeing the spark of pride in his brother’s eyes, feeling that satisfaction Dean always reveled in after a job well-done. “No way! Kick-ass, man. Remember the time we ran out of bullets and grenade-in-a-can’d that werewolf?”

“Hell yeah! I also remember you aced a calculus test the next morning. Monster-hunter by night, mathlete by day. You totally had the ultimate alter ego, Sammy, better than Bruce Wayne.”

“My life’s a little different now I guess,” Sam said, but without any sadness to the words. “Three weeks ago Jay projectile vomited all over the guy in front of us in line at the grocery store. It was the highlight of my day.”

“Hey, man, you’re out of hunting but still getting splattered with bodily fluids every time you turn around. Some things just don’t ever change, that’s for damn sure.” Dean held up his bottle and clinked it against Sam’s, a gesture that was familiar ever since Dean had given Sam his first beer when he was fifteen and had to have a gash in his shoulder stitched up after a salt and burn that didn’t turn out to be as uncomplicated as they thought it would.

For the next hour or so, they just traded stories, Sam telling Dean about the crazy Guatemalan dude he rode around with in the construction company’s truck between job sites, Dean regaling him with tales of narrowly escaping angry pool players when they realized they’d been hustled. It felt nice. Drinking beer, laughing, filling in the gaps until it almost felt like they hadn’t been separated from each other for years. Being together was just as comfortable as it had always been. Like it was the way they belonged. Sam knew it couldn’t last, but he wasn’t going to waste their time together thinking about the inevitable goodbye. He was going to soak it up, commit every second to memory, and appreciate however much time they had. 

It seemed to him like Dean was just as relived as he was to be back in touch. Sam couldn’t sense any resentment or anger from his brother, just genuine affection, concern, and maybe something wistful, he couldn’t quite identify it. If he had to guess, it was probably the same as what Sam was feeling (at least in part), that they’d missed out on a lot of each other’s lives and didn’t want that to happen again.

Either way, the next day was Sunday, which meant another whole day for the three of them to be together. As Sam arranged his extra pillow and one spare set of sheets onto the couch for Dean, he thought maybe they’d take Jay to the park in the morning after breakfast. He mentally congratulated himself for picking up a box of instant pancake mix and a tiny bottle of fake syrup the last time he’d gone shopping. He wheeled Jay’s bassinet back into the bedroom and fixed a bottle that would surely be needed somewhere between 3 and 4am, putting it in the fridge and hoping he could get through the inevitable middle of the night feeding without disturbing his brother’s sleep. 

“Dean. You need anything? Got enough, uh, covers and stuff?”

“Go to bed, Sam. I’m fine, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Sam settled into his bed, checking one last time on Jay, who was sleeping soundly. He then proceeded to will away the ridiculous instinct to cry himself to sleep with the idea of something he never thought he’d have again – seeing Dean in the morning.  
Of course, Dean woke up when Sam went to get Jay’s middle of the night bottle from the fridge. Growing up as a hunter didn’t exactly make someone a heavy sleeper. 

“Go back to sleep, Dean, I’m just getting a bottle.”

“Need any help?” Dean asked, completely alert. 

“I’m just feeding the baby, I’m fine, seriously, go back to sleep. Please.”

Sam padded back into his bedroom and for the millionth time wondered when the child would start sleeping through the night. He’d heard people talk about babies sleeping from bedtime until morning, so he was sure it would _eventually_ occur, he just had no idea when he’d be blessed with that particular gift. Luckily, when Jay woke up hungry in the middle of the night, he wasn’t screaming or anything, he just fussed a little, and once he’d been fed he went right back to sleep. It certainly could have been worse. He’d heard other parents at work and at the park talk about babies who stayed up half the night crying, hell, he remembered his dad recounting stories about how Dean had been colicky and how he and Mary had taken turns walking him around the living room trying to get him to stop screaming his head off for hours at a time. So he guessed he didn’t really have it all that bad, relatively speaking. 

Jay’s soft cooing sounds and the ringing of his little stuffed dog woke Sam around 7am, and for a minute he was on edge – he could swear he heard movement outside his bedroom and automatically reached for the knife he still kept wedged under his pillow after all this time. 

Then it all came back to him. Dean was there. 

Quietly, he picked up the baby and shuffled out into the living area. And **fuckall** if Dean wasn’t right every time he’d called Sam a girl over the past twenty years, because there he was tearing up again. 

Dean was standing in front of Sam’s stove, wearing sweats (and nothing else, which Sam tried to ignore), and mixing pancake batter in a chipped bowl that was already there in the apartment when Sam moved in. He stood by silently as he watched his brother slide butter around the pan on the stove and then pour the batter in neat little circles. He was humming ( _dirty deeds, done dirt cheap_ ) as he grabbed a dishtowel and cleaned the drips of batter from the side of the bowl, then started opening drawers and moving things around.

“Looking for a spatula?”

Dean started when he realized Sam was watching him, then smiled (God, that smile, so fucking – shut up). “Yeah. Thought I’d get breakfast started, hope you don’t mind.”

“Hell no, man, I think we both know we’re better off with you in front of the stove than me”, Sam replied, grinning and handing Dean a black plastic spatula from the drawer next to the sink. 

Dean finished making the pancakes while Sam went about the rote task of mixing powdered formula with tap water for Jay’s morning bottle. “Can he have a pancake?”

“Yeah, sure, no syrup, though. There might be honey in it and I read they’re not supposed to have honey until they’re at least”

“Jesus, I’m going to find all those books and put them to rest with a proper salt and burn. But all right, no syrup. Can’t imagine what kind of mess the kid would make out of that anyway.” 

They sat down just like they had the night before, Jay in his high chair and Dean and Sam on the sofa with plates in their laps. At first Sam had been embarrassed about not having a proper kitchen table, but after everything they’d talked about the night before, it just kind of disappeared. They’d grown up eating food out of takeout containers on motel beds, so eating off plates while sitting on a sofa was really not that big of a deal. 

“I thought maybe we could take Jay to the park, if you want. It’s nice out today.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, Sammy. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, though. You said something about needing a crib soon, and if it’s okay, I’d like to go out and get one for him today.”

“Dean. That’s really nice, man, thanks, but I meant what I said, they’re expensive.”

“I have money. You didn’t know, because I didn’t tell you. When I went to get beer last night, I thought about buying a whole bunch of groceries but I didn’t want to overstep. But…the truth is, I’ve been putting money away as long as I’ve been on my own with hunting. I don’t need much, and you know how good I am at hustling darts and pool. I still feel like I’m overstepping, because I only just got here yesterday, but I got nothin’ else to spend it on, and – stop it. I know that look. He’s my damn nephew, and I missed out on six months of getting him presents and stuff…”

Fuck. Sam shook his head and looked at the floor. “Sorry, Dean. I didn’t even think – I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner about the baby.”

“Save the sorry, man. Just let me do this. Please?”

Sam wasn’t about to refuse his brother any request at this point, as guilty as he felt having realized that Dean would have _wanted_ to know he had a nephew from the very beginning. “Okay, yeah, that would be really – just, you know, thanks.”

Without any more than casual conversation, they had their breakfast, took their showers, and headed out to the park, pushing Jay in a fold-out umbrella stroller. They spent an hour or so rolling around in the grass, acting like fools, making the baby laugh, making each other laugh. After that, they walked around the neighborhood, Sam pointing out to Dean where he caught the bus, the public library that he stopped into when he had a chance, the clinic where he brought the baby for his vaccinations and on the two frightening occasions when he’d actually been sick. 

Once they got back to Sam’s place, Dean grabbed his car keys. “You ready to go pick out a crib, dude?”

Goddamn it, not again, it had only been a day but Sam thought he had gotten himself to the point where he wasn’t going to feel like a complete ass admitting that he didn’t have certain things that were necessary for particular activities. 

“I can’t go with you, Dean. I don’t have a car, so I never bothered with buying a carseat.” He tried to sound casual about it, but he could tell that Dean sensed his feelings in the look he got in return. 

“Little guy probably needs a nap anyway, right? If you trust me to pick this thing out myself, I’ll just go and you can stay here.”

“Of course I trust you, dumbass, just go. And, really, thanks for”

“Shut up. I’ll be back. Make me a sandwich or something, will you?” And with that, Dean winked at Sam and walked out the door. 

Luckily, Dean had made his exit before it became obvious that Sam had a raging hard-on just from being _winked at_ by his brother. Fucking ridiculous. Dean had been right, though, Jay was grinding his tiny fists into his eyes, giving the universal signal for “I need a nap”. He settled his son into his bassinet and hummed a little lullaby, but the kid was out in under than two minutes. 

Sam jerked himself off in even less time than that.

Fuck.

He busied himself with cleaning up the dishes from breakfast and concentrated on what he had in the fridge to make sandwiches with.

Just as he’d finished compiling some leftover chicken ( **not** undercooked, Sam had learned his lesson), slices of cheese and some mayo onto the rest of his not-yet-stale white bread, he heard Dean’s “Open the door, bitch” from outside.

Sam opened the door to see Dean with both arms wrapped around a large rectangular box. “Tell me you’ve got a tool kit in here, man, ‘cause we’re gonna have to assemble this mother.”

“Yeah, of course,” Sam laughed and helped his brother haul in the gigantic box with a picture of a brown wood crib on one side. “Let’s have lunch first, though, okay?”

As they ate their sandwiches, Dean excitedly described the purchase he’d made. “Man, I didn’t even know they made shit like this!! You can get the coolest stuff for babies now! It’s a crib, right, but then once the kid gets bigger and doesn’t need a crib anymore, you can just move a few pieces around and turn it into a bed! How fucking awesome is that?”

Sam knew exactly what a convertible crib was, he’d seen them in catalogs and heard other parents talking about them, and he was well aware of the fact that they cost a lot more than just a plain old regular crib, but he remembered what Dean said earlier, and didn’t comment. “Yeah, like two in one, they’re pretty cool. Thanks, Dean, I mean it.”

“You can thank me by helping me put this thing together. I gotta go back down to the car and get the mattress and stuff.”

Dean was gone again before Sam had a chance to ask him to elaborate on “and stuff”. He put their dishes in the sink and got his tool kit from the closet before opening the box and staring at the 8,749 pieces inside. As he was perusing the instruction booklet, Dean walked back in, a crib mattress under one arm and a bag in his other hand. 

Sam looked at him expectantly, and Dean supplied, “It’s just sheets and one of those things you tie around the edges so the baby doesn’t bump into the bars, dude. Don’t get pissy.”

They both relaxed and spent the time during Jay’s afternoon nap assembling this monster that seemed to require an advanced degree in engineering to figure out. 

After a couple of hours, the brothers stood back and admired their accomplishment. They’d gotten the crib put together without murdering each other or breaking anything, which was a minor miracle. 

“This calls for a celebration, I think. How about if I go pick us up some Chinese food?”

Sam almost fainted at the thought of getting takeout, it was a luxury he’d treated himself to maybe twice in the past year or so. But he just smiled up at his brother and said, “Sure, if you don’t mind, that would be fantastic.”

“Vegetable lo mein?”

Laughing, Sam replied, “God, you remember _everything_ , Dean. Yeah.”

“What about the baby?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I can’t really be sure what’s in everything, and I don’t think they’re”

Dean was giving him **the look** again. “All right, just get him steamed vegetable dumplings, those are soft and I can cut them into little pieces, see if he likes it.”

“Cool. Be right back. Don’t turn Jay into a girl while I’m gone. Oooh, the simultaneous eyeroll and bitchface. Haven’t lost your touch, Sammy.”

Sam set Jay in his high chair and went into the bedroom to put the sheets onto his new crib. As he was tying the bumper onto the slats, he started thinking again how great this all was and wondering how long it would last. He had to work the next day, so Dean would probably take off. Hopefully now he would come visit on a regular basis, though, Sam was almost positive that would happen. Dean was obviously having a good time, and not doing anything because he felt obligated, that much was absolutely clear. And he was completely smitten with Jay, which wasn’t really all that surprising now that Sam really thought about it. No matter how good he was at hunting, Dean had always been a family man. 

Once they got their dinner set up, Sam cooled down the dumplings and cut them into tiny pieces for Jay, who dug into them with gusto. “Next time, we’ll see how he likes pork dumplings”, Dean said, shooting his brother a sly smile.

Next time. Sam never thought those two words would sound so amazing. Dean lost the smile, though, and his face turned serious as he seemed to be searching for something to say. Maybe about how it was probably time for him to get back on the road. That was all right, Sam thought, Dean would clearly be back, and it felt to him like they’d reconnected more in less than two days than he’d ever thought possible. 

“Look, I hate to spring this on you, Sam, but do you think it would be all right if I stayed for a while? You can throw me out whenever you’re tired of me, but I could get some kind of job, hunt when there’s something local, maybe help out with Jay?” 

Jesus Christ. Sam wasn’t prepared for this. He thought maybe Dean would stay for a day, get the kid a toy and move on. There was nothing on the _entire fucking planet_ Sam wanted more, but he had to be sure. And he had to be strong, too, certain that whatever non-brotherly feelings he had for Dean could be contained.

“Dean. You’re a hunter. It’s what you do. I can’t ask you to give that up. After everything I’ve done, I can’t ask you for anything. I get that I scared you when I called the other night, but I promise I’m not that bad off. Just having this little bit of time with you, knowing you’ll be around sometimes, I feel so much better. I can take care of the baby, I know I can, you don’t have to worry.”

“Okay, first of all, ‘after everything I’ve done’, fuck you, you haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not saying I want to stay here and keep an eye on you because I think you can’t take care of Jay, so don’t you go thinking that for a minute. And second, you didn’t ask me for shit. This is _me_ asking _you_. I’m not giving up hunting, I’d still do it. But if you’re willing to take on a roommate, even part-time, I’m asking. Would you let me stay?”

Sam studied his brother for any hint that Dean was feeling like he needed to start taking care of him again, either out of habit or obligation. But there was nothing even remotely like that in Dean’s face. Sam understood the look on his brother’s face like he understood his own self. Dean saw this little bit of domesticity and wanted a part of it. So he said the dumbest thing possible.

“There’s only one bedroom. I could sleep on the couch, though, and if you wanted to stay…then yeah. Yeah, I’d love it if you would stay.” Sam’s brain was shouting at him. YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID NO. But he didn’t. Selfish. Again.

“Fuck that, Sasquatch, I’ll sleep on the couch, you’d never fit on this thing. Let’s do this – I’ll hang out for a few days. We’ll see how things work out. If it’s not unbearable, I’ll stay. If it sucks, I’ll go. Sound fair?”

“Sure, Dean. Perfectly fair. I don’t know what to say. I mean, you know, thanks, and…”

“Chick-flick moment. Unnecessary. You’re the one doing me a favor here. An apartment is much better than a filthy motel room, and as long as I’m here, I get to spoil your baby. Unless you’ll be mad if I spoil him. Wait, no, nevermind, I don’t really **give a shit** about that, I’m going to spoil the baby regardless, which is my God-given right as his uncle. So don’t bother arguing that particular point.”

Sam genuinely laughed at that and readily agreed. Hell, if things were the other way around and Dean had a son, Sam would spoil the kid completely rotten, so he shouldn’t be surprised. 

But he knew for sure that he couldn’t let Dean in on his secret. His desire to have Dean _all over_ him, spoiling him in a completely different way. When they were still kids, he’d thought he’d caught a bit of reciprocation on his brother’s part, but it had probably been his horny teenage imagination. Now that they were both adults, all that was best forgotten. 

“Please, Sam. Never think I don’t have faith in your ability to raise this kid, and raise him well. Hell, you learned from the best, right? Anyway, two sets of hands are better than one. I’ll have a home base and a baby to teach Zeppelin lyrics to, you’ll have some help with the day to day, and we’ll both have – well, we’ll have each other.” There was a flash in Dean’s eyes then, there and gone in just a second, and Sam could almost convince himself he imagined it. It probably wasn’t – no, it definitely wasn’t that. Dean just meant they could be close again, like they’d been before.

“Yeah. Each other. It’ll be nice to have, uh, have company. Someone to talk to who can actually talk back. You’ll have Jay singing Ramble On before you know it. But please, man, no Motorhead. I gotta draw the line somewhere.”

They both smiled and clinked their beer bottles together once more. “All right, then. Let’s just try it out. You gotta work tomorrow?”

“Bright and early. You gonna be bored out of your mind sitting around here all day?”

“Nah. Not if you let Jay stay here with me”, Dean replied, flashing that irresistible grin again. “Just for the day. I won’t take him to a pool hall or anything, I swear.”

“Shit, Dean, yeah, of course. You can put him in the stroller and walk around the neighborhood some, maybe introduce yourself to one of the cute single moms at the park.” Sam tried to sound casual about it. “Oh, and hey, you can cook me some damn dinner too”, he smirked, “I might have an apron around here somewhere.”

Dean cuffed him on the back of the head, and Sam threw a balled up napkin at Dean’s face. Things were feeling good. Sam could keep his little secret and they would make this work, he was just sure of it. 

But there was one other thing that hadn’t been brought up yet, and now that they’d made this decision, it had to be said.

Dean, of course, was the one to say it.

“Sammy, you gotta tell Dad. I’m going to call him and tell him I’m staying here for a while, or you can tell him when you talk to him, but seriously, there’s no getting around it at this point. I’m not saying you have to invite him to visit, but you have to tell him what’s going on with you.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking the same thing since you got here. It’s not like the two of you are in each other’s pockets anymore, but you still talk, and I’d never put you in a position where you had to keep this from him. Honestly, I’d rather do it sooner than later. I’ll call him tonight. Probably have to leave a message, it’s not like my number’s on his contacts list.”

“All right. How about if I clean this stuff up and give Jay a bath, you can try to get in touch with him.”

Dean scribbled down the number on a napkin, and Sam took a deep breath as he dialed, having not the first clue what he was going to say to his father after all this time.

Sam was shocked when he got a grumbled “Yeah?” on the other end of the line instead of a voice mail greeting.

“Dad.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry it’s been so long. I need to talk to you, though, it’s important, if you have time.”

“Course I have time, son. Are you all right?”

Sam’s heart nearly broke at the concern he heard in his father’s voice. The last words they’d said to each other, so long ago, were filled with anger and seemed so final at the time.

“I’m all right. I’m still in California, and Dean’s here with me. He’s gonna stay a while, I think.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Dean all right?”

“Yeah, Dad, we’re both fine. But…there are some things I need to tell you. I should have told you sooner, but…”

“I know, son. I know. Just tell me what’s going on. How’s school? Do you need anything?”

“I’m not in school anymore. I, uh…”, Sam took a deep breath, and just came out with it. “I had a baby. So, you know, I had to put it on hold for a while.”

Another pause. Longer this time. “A baby? Don’t tell me you got married, please, you’re too young…”

“No, Dad, the mother’s not in the picture. It’s a long story. Anyway, I’m working a construction job and I only just called Dean to tell him a couple days ago. He showed up here and he decided – we decided – that he’d stay here with us for now.”

“Jesus, Sam. If I’m being honest, I can’t say I blame you for not calling me sooner. I was a stupid fuck when you left, and I’ve never stopped regretting the way that all went down. But thank you for calling me. I need to know, though…tell me, please. I have a grandchild? Boy or girl?”

“A boy. I named him James Caleb, but I just call him Jay.”

“Fine names, son, Caleb and Pastor Jim would be thrilled to know you thought enough of them to pass on their names to your son. I’m sorry about school. I know how hard you worked…please tell me you’re planning to go back.”

“Dad, I don’t know. Maybe. But for now I have to concentrate on what’s best for Jay.”

John signed on the other end of the connection, his voice tinged with emotion when he responded. “Giving him something better than I ever gave you and Dean, I’m sure of that.”

“Don’t say that, I know what we had growing up wasn’t perfect, but it’s not like I’ve got any kind of perfect going on here. Just doing the best I can. And having Dean here – it’s like we’re a family again.”

“I understand, Sam. And I know you’re probably still angry, I wouldn’t blame you, but I’d love to meet him sometime, when you’re ready.”

“It might be a little while before I’m ready. I hope you really do understand. This isn’t easy for me, and I’m sure it’s not easy for you, either.”

“Yeah, I know. It might take a little time. But if you and Dean could manage to work things out after all this time, maybe you could eventually give me a chance too?”

“Look, I know it’s a long way off, and I have no idea whether or not Dean will still be here, but maybe you could come for Thanksgiving?”

“Absolutely. Thank you, son. Thanks for calling, and thanks for inviting me. Give me your address, at least, so I can send something for the baby?”

“Of course.” Sam rattled off the address for his apartment, a little shell-shocked at how this conversation had ended up. “Keep it, so you can find your way here for the holidays, all right?”

“Sure. You tell that boy his grandpa – fuck, grandpa?” John laughed, “can’t wait to meet him.”

“You got it, Dad. And now you have my number, so call whenever you want, okay?”

“Okay, Sam. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Sam set his phone down and walked into the kitchen, leaning heavily on the counter. 

“No voice mail, then, huh?” Dean asked.

“Nope. No fighting, either. Maybe time really does heal wounds, hokey as it sounds.”

“I think you’re right.”

Dean moved closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Sam froze, trying very hard to keep his breath even and measured.

“It’s all gonna work out fine, Sammy. Trust me on this. When I got here, you were a wreck. Now, you look happy. You look…”

“What?”

“Good. You look good, Sam”, Dean replied, not moving his hand from Sam’s shoulder. Sam was studying the floor intently, afraid to look at his brother’s face, and Dean backed off. “I mean, you look, uh, you know, well-rested. Um, healthy.”

Sam thought there might be more behind Dean’s words, but he was far too afraid to give away his own feelings so he looked away and forced himself to grin. “I feel so much better having you here. You have no idea.”

“No, I think I might have some idea.”

At that point, Sam couldn’t help himself. He risked a glance at Dean, who was now moving closer, reaching out his hand, and no, this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be happening, but he felt Dean’s hand cupping his cheek, turning his head so they were eye to eye. 

For just a moment, it seemed like Dean was still moving toward him, but all of a sudden, he backed away again, his hand falling to his side. “Sorry, Sam.” Dean shook his head, like he was trying to sweep something away. 

More than anything else in the world, Sam wanted to tell his brother not to be sorry, wanted to lean into the touch he’d just lost, but no matter what either of them was feeling, it was clear that Dean wasn’t ready to address it. Feeling how precarious the emotions in the room were, Sam wasn’t willing to push it.

“It’s getting late. Jay’s sound asleep in his new fancy-ass crib that his Uncle Dean got him. Maybe we should turn in.”

Dean agreed quickly, and they went their separate ways, Sam to his bed and Dean to the sofa. 

Closing the door to his bedroom, Sam whispered “See you in the morning, Dean”, before settling himself into bed.

It was a long, long time before Sam was able to sleep. Hopefully he was quiet enough as he made himself come again, the phantom touch of Dean’s hand on his face still lingering. What the hell was going on? He didn’t want to set himself up for a huge disappointment, it would just be too crushing to hope Dean might want him too only to find out that he’d misinterpreted their brief exchange in the kitchen. He tried so hard to push it out of his mind, but even after he’d gotten himself off, he couldn’t make it go away. The sound of Dean’s voice, his words, his touch. Maybe he hadn’t been imagining things after all. What seemed like hours later, he finally fell asleep.

He had no idea that he wasn’t the only Winchester brother struggling to find sleep after jerking himself off quietly with long-buried thoughts pushing their way to the surface again. 

Dean stood smiling as he leaned against the kitchen counter, reading Sam’s list as Jay played happily in his playpen. As if he thought Dean was unable to read, Sam repeated, “So, that’s the number to the construction office, the cell phone of one of the guys I work with, the clinic I showed you the other day, uh”

“911? _Seriously_? Felt like you needed to write that down for me?”

“Sorry, man, I know I’m being a little over the top, I just want to make sure you have everything you need in case anything happens. I’m sure you two will be fine.”

“Course we will, Sammy.” Dean was trying hard to stare at the list instead of at his brother’s arms. Sam had always been in good shape, but he hadn’t been built like _this_ when he left for college, that was for damn sure, with well-defined and amazingly toned biceps and forearms sticking out from his t-shirt sleeves. He told himself he was going to have to shut that down if this arrangement was going to work. Dean was fairly certain that Sam’s invitation for him to stay would be rescinded if he found out he was being ogled by his older brother. “Just go on, we’ll have a fun day and we’ll even walk down to meet you at the bus stop, all right?”

Sam kissed Jay on the head, crossed back over to the front door and looked at Dean one last time, where Dean was dutifully tacking up **the list** onto the fridge with a magnet. “All right. I know. I’ll see you tonight, Dean.”

And just like that, he was gone and Dean was alone with his nephew. “All right, dude, I’m gonna have some breakfast. But then we have to plan our day. What do you think? Trip to the grocery store first? Or maybe the park?”

Jay answered by throwing one of his toys out of the playpen, and Dean just laughed and tossed it back in for him. After breakfast, he went to pick the baby up and oh, shit. Literally. The kid reeked. “Part of the job, I guess. Let’s go get your rank ass cleaned up, kid.”

It was the most amazing day Dean could remember having in a really, really long time. They played at the park, and he didn’t have to introduce himself to any of the single moms as Sam had offhandedly suggested before, because the ladies were all too interested in introducing themselves. Dean was polite, but he wasn’t there to collect phone numbers, so he just chatted and then spent the rest of the time swinging Jay in the baby-swing and letting him explore the grass. He figured at this point it wouldn’t be presumptuous for him to pick up groceries, so when they left they hit the grocery store and he loaded up as much as he could carry while still pushing the stroller. He was honestly surprised at the warm feeling that went along with putting away groceries, changing diapers, planning dinner, and almost had to smack himself in the head at the way he was counting down how much longer until he could take Jay down the block to meet Sam at the bus. Cooking dinner while Sam spent time with the baby, giving him a bath while Sam washed the dishes, settling back down to watch baseball after Jay was asleep in his crib – it was so satisfying, so comfortable. If someone had told him a week ago that this is what he’d be doing, he would have laughed in their face. 

“So”, he started, during a commercial break in the game, “you think it’s too early for me to start looking for work? I want to keep hunting, at least part-time, but I’m a little worried about what kind of consequences that might have for you and Jay. Wouldn’t want to end up having some big ugly following me back here.”

“We both know how to prevent that kind of thing, and how to deal with it if it happens, Dean. I don’t want to stop you from hunting, we both know you’d be miserable. And if you’re going to stay here, I’d rather not deal with miserable you”, Sam smirked. “And no, I don’t think it’s too early. If you’re happy being here with us, I still want you to stay.”

Jay went back to daycare the next day, and Dean found a job at the local hospital as an orderly, with the help of a fake reference from their family friend Bobby Singer. The pay was crap and the work wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it was four ten-hour shifts a week, and three days off in a row. Perfect. 

It didn’t take long for the three of them to settle into a routine. Dean was gone before Sam and Jay were up in the morning (it turned out the crib was apparently magic, because Jay had finally started sleeping through the night), but was already home and making dinner by the time they got home. Some weekends Dean would leave for a relatively local hunt on Thursday night or Friday morning. When there wasn’t one, Dean’s Fridays off saved Sam a few bucks on his daycare bill for the week because Jay would stay at home with him. 

They stayed busy, but they had most evenings together, at least during the week. At the end of the second week, he told Sam to come down to the parking lot and help him get something from the car. When they got there, Sam moved toward the trunk and Dean said, “It’s not in there, dude. Look in the back seat.”

Sam stared. “Dean. You didn’t.” There was a carseat with a five-point harness properly installed in the back of the Impala. A car seat. In the Impala. 

“I did”, Dean replied, beaming. “Now we can go out to a restaurant, or all go to the store together or whatever. They were having a sale at Target. I hope you don’t mind, I wanted to surprise you.”

“No, of course I don’t mind, that was – Jesus, Dean, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but it’s not for you, it’s for the kid. Well, I guess it’s kind of for all of us.” At first he was caught off guard, but it didn’t take more than a second to reciprocate when his brother threw his arms around him in a hug. The physical contact was more than they’d had in years and he thought he might have held on to Sam for a moment too long, but he couldn’t stop himself. They parted a little awkwardly, but Dean pulled himself together and just clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Let’s go back inside, you big girl”, he forced out, rewarded by Sam flipping him the bird but still smiling brightly. He pushed off the feeling that he’d started referring to in his head as **that other thing** and went back inside to spend a while helping Jay refine his belly-crawling skills and going around the living room on all fours like an idiot because he could just tell the kid was going to be crawling for real any time now.

At the end of the next weekend, getting back exhausted and filthy from a salt and burn two counties over, Dean found a surprise of his own. In place of the worn-out sofa, there was a futon with a black mattress. When he asked Sam where it had come from, he said one of the guys from work helped him get it upstairs and put it together. “It’s still a sofa, but you can fold it down at night and have twice as much room to sleep. Nothing fancy, but…”

“Sam, seriously, this is great! Thank you, it must have been a lot of work. Please tell me it wasn’t expensive, man.”

“Nah. And it was easy to put together. I just wanted to, uh, you know, do something, um, nice for you”, Sam said, looking down at the floor. 

Dean couldn’t imagine why Sam would be acting like he was embarrassed about it, but figured he’d just let it go. He’d done a pretty damn good job at keeping his feelings under control, not staring (unless he was sure he wouldn’t get caught), and most importantly, not jumping Sam’s bones. But hell, Sam had hugged him before, so Dean figured it wouldn’t hurt anything, and pulled his brother into his arms. “I mean it, Sam, that was really, like, thoughtful and stuff.”

After the second hug in as many weeks, both men were clearing their throats and looking in opposite directions. Dean broke the silence by saying something ridiculous. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s break it in, dude!” Well, shit, that didn’t exactly come out the way he wanted it to, and for a minute he thought he’d freaked Sam out, because he was just staring at him with his eyes as big as dinner plates. “Uh, I mean, let’s get some beers, see if there’s a good movie on.”

“Yeah, of course, yeah, you get the beer, I’ll see what’s on.”

Shit, that had been a close call. Because Dean would have been thrilled to break in that futon mattress (or really any other surface of the apartment) in an entirely different way, but he thought he’d covered fairly well. By the time he’d popped open their beers, Sam had found a Rambo marathon on one of the local channels, and they settled in to one of their favorite movies since they’d been kids way too young to watch them. 

A couple of hours later, Dean realized he’d fallen asleep. He went to stretch and froze. Yeah, he’d fallen asleep. On Sam. With his head on Sam’s chest, specifically. Which would have been easy to blow off if Sam was out too. But he wasn’t. He was – oh, this couldn’t be happening, no fucking way this could be – but it was. Sam had his left arm around Dean, lazily rubbing circles into his shoulder. 

Dean knew he should move. He should say something, he should open his eyes, he should make a joke. But he didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he moved closer into the embrace, and Sam stopped moving his hand suddenly. Dean reconsidered his decision, but after a few seconds, Sam just pulled him closer into his chest and laid his head on top of Dean’s. Neither of them said anything. Dean fell back to sleep and Sam was in his bed with the door shut when Dean got up for his 6am shift at the hospital in the morning. 

But that’s how it started. Dean cooking dinner, Sam washing dishes. Dean giving the baby a bath, Sam changing him into pajamas and tucking him into his crib for the night. Both of them watching television in the living room, moving closer to each other with each passing night until eventually they were basically cuddling for most of the evening, Dean falling asleep on Sam’s shoulder or chest with Sam’s strong arm around him, then waking up alone.

Sam hadn’t said anything about it, so Dean wasn’t about to bring it up for fear of losing it. But what did it mean? Did Sam have the same kind of feelings as Dean did? He’d thought it was impossible, but maybe it wasn’t as crazy as he’d first imagined. The only way to find out was to say something stupid like “Hey Sam, what’s with all the snuggling, you wanna have sex?”, or to actually make a move. Both options were terrifying, so he figured he’d give himself a little more time before trying to figure it out. He didn’t have a whole lot of time left, though, because the one thing he knew with absolute certainty was that his resolve was going to break, probably sooner rather than later.

Before either of the Winchesters knew it, two months had passed. Dean was still going on the occasional local hunt, and working during the week, spending as much time as he could with Jay and shockingly loving the hell out of the domesticity and routing his life had taken on. Sam was still working every day, and his stress level had plummeted since his brother had been there to help shoulder the responsibility of taking care of Jay and paying the bills. 

But then there was **that other thing**. Dean was slipping, he could feel it, with the ongoing and completely unacknowledged nightly snuggling. Both of them were too afraid to bring it up with the other, so neither of them said anything, and Sam managed to extricate himself and get into his own bed with the door closed sometime during the night so they wouldn’t wake up like that. It worked, for a while.

Then came the night Dean swore he’d felt Sam kiss him on the forehead, but tried to convince himself he’d imagined it.

He hadn’t imagined it. Sam thought Dean was deeply asleep, so he went farther than he’d ever dared up to this point, leaning down to press his lips against his brother’s temple, just for a second. It was probably harmless, Dean wouldn’t remember it, surely. He was safe.

Or maybe not.

Dean wasn’t as out as Sam had thought he was.

He looked up at Sam with half-lidded eyes. “Dude, did you just kiss me?”, he asked, voice bleary with half-sleep. 

Sam moved back from his brother quickly, removing his arm from Dean’s shoulder and pressing himself against the edge of the sofa, mortified that he’d been found out. “It wasn’t – um, I was asleep, I – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to”

But that was the end of the stammered excuse, because Dean cut him off, suddenly totally awake and sitting up, forcing Sam to look straight on at him. “Don’t bullshit me, Sam. We’ve been falling asleep cuddled up together for weeks now, and then I wake up alone and we just pretend it never happened. But then it happens again, night after night, and we can’t keep ignoring it. We’ve got to talk. I understand if you’re kind of starved for affection. But hell, I’ve been all over town with Jay, he’s like a fucking chick-magnet. It’s not like you couldn’t have met a nice girl at some point if you wanted to.”

“Seriously, Dean? What kind of time do I have for a social life? You’ve been here for months, and it’s not like you’re in any different situation than I am. You don’t have time for it, either. Anyway, I’m away from Jay all day while I’m working, I take the time that I get with him in the evenings and on weekends, I don’t want to spend that time with anyone else. I don’t want to share it. I don’t want to share Jay.”

“You’ve been sharing it with me”, Dean replied, his voice even but his heart hammering against his chest. “Because I’m family? Because you need me? It’s not like we fell asleep cuddling before you left for college, I mean, not since you were little anyway.”

Sam just looked down, his face flushed and a hint of tears in his eyes. He was ashamed, terrified his brother was figuring out his secret and that he was going to pack up his shit and haul ass out of there any minute.

“Sammy, don’t cry. And don’t think you can’t tell me what you’re feeling.” Dean took a deep breath, rubbed his hand across his face, and just came out with it. “Because I think whatever it is, I’m feeling it too.”

It bordered on the surreal, and Sam considered actually _pinching_ himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming this whole thing. How could they even be having this conversation? There was no way that Dean understood what he was saying, no way that Dean could be feeling what Sam felt. There were crossed wires here, there had to be. Still in an instinctive recovery mode, Sam responded, “You don’t know what you’re saying, man. And I swear you don’t want to know what I’m really feeling. I’m sorry, honest to God, I didn’t mean to let things get like…well, like _this_. I’ll just go to bed and I swear it won’t happen again. Okay? Just please don’t leave. Please.”

And that was it. All the confirmation that Dean needed – and never thought he’d get. Sam wanted him, the same way that he wanted Sam. To say that he was shocked was an understatement, but there was no way he was going to let his brother think he’d done something wrong. “Leave? Are you kidding me? I’m not leaving you, and you’re wrong if you think I _don’t know what I’m saying_. I know exactly what I’m saying. And so do you. There’s no point in tiptoeing around it anymore.”

With that, Dean summoned up every ounce of courage he possessed, and leaned forward, kissing Sam’s lips softly. It was less than a minute before Sam relaxed against the touch and kissed him back. At first, it was all very chaste (well, as chaste as it could be, considering he was kissing his brother), but Dean finally ran his tongue against Sam’s lips and Sam immediately opened his mouth, and all of a sudden they were kissing for real. Sam’s hand rested against Dean’s cheek, and Dean’s gripped the back of Sam’s neck. 

When they both needed air, they broke the contact, and Sam just stared. “No way. No motherfucking way. I’ve been trying _so hard_ to make it go away, I thought you would run, you would think I was sick or crazy…”

Dean laughed. “Yeah. I know the feeling. I’ve been doing the exact same thing. We’re both morons.”

“But we can’t – I mean – can we? I keep thinking it’s wrong but part of me keeps saying that it doesn’t seem wrong, not really.”

“I get it, Sam, of course our instinct is going to say it’s not okay, but shit, we’re both adults, and if we know what we want, why shouldn’t we have it? Look at our lives, our whole entire fucking lives, man. Looking in from the outside, most of it would look wrong to someone else. But we’re not someone else.”

Now that they were finally talking about it, Sam felt like he could ask some questions. “Are you gay? I mean, you know, do you like guys? Have you been with guys?”

“I haven’t been with guys, if you mean having sex. But I can’t really answer your question. I want you, and you’re a guy, so what does that mean? I don’t know. I don’t care, honestly. What about you?”

Sam flushed and admitted, “No, I haven’t had sex with any guys, but to tell you the truth, I’ve only been with two girls, so it’s not like I’ve got a lot of experience. I never really thought about any guys like **that** , except for you.”

“Ha! So you’re totally gay for me. Awesome.” Dean was resorting to smartassery, his fallback position in situations like this. Well, it wasn’t really like he’d had a situation quite exactly like this before. 

“Shut up, jerk, and kiss me again.”

Dean was more than happy to comply, but not before he retorted, “All right, _bitch_.”

Within minutes, the kissing had become more intense, Dean moving his lips onto Sam’s neck and Sam pulling at the hem of Dean’s t-shirt, trying to get it off. Admittedly, getting each other out of their clothes for the first time was a bit awkward, but both of them craved the contact of skin against skin. They’d already folded out the futon before they started watching Dirty Harry after putting Jay to bed, so there was a little room to spread out. Dean experimentally brushed Sam’s nipples with his fingertips and was rewarded with a sigh and an accompanying “Fuck, Dean, yeah”, which only made him a little bolder in his touching, tweaking Sam’s nipples and running his tongue over them repeatedly. Once they both had shed all their clothes, Sam took the lead and reached out, gently taking Dean’s dick in his hand and stroking, just going on what he knew he liked, since he’d never done this before. An all-out moan escaped Dean’s lips then, as his head rested on Sam’s shoulder and he couldn’t say anything except for “Yes, God, yes, just like that, please.”

Eventually, Dean moved back and pushed Sam down so that he was lying on top of him, straddling his thighs and pressing their hard cocks together as they both rolled their hips in search of friction. This was it, time to decide if they were going to take this slow or just go for it. He wasn’t really sure how to pose the question, but it turned out he didn’t have to.

“There’s lube in the bathroom. In the medicine cabinet”, Sam breathlessly whispered. “You wanna go get it?”

“You sure, Sammy? We don’t have to”

“I’m sure, Dean. So fucking sure. I’ll be here when you get back. Just go get it.”

Dean tried not to full-on sprint to the bathroom and back, but wasn’t really all that successful in that particular endeavor. There was a tiny part of him that worried he’d turn around to find Sam freaking out and pulling his clothes back on. But when he returned, all he saw was a mile and a half of naked Sammy, sprawled out on the mattress and stroking his cock very slowly with his eyes closed. He decided to give his brother one more chance to change his mind. “Sam”, he said, climbing back on to the futon, “you’re really sure about this? I know you haven’t”

“Yes, fuck, Dean, _yes_ , I’m sure. You haven’t either, you already said.”

“Well, yeah, I haven’t, not with a guy, but I know how this works, it’s not like I haven’t been with one or two, uh, adventurous girls before. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me. You’d never hurt me, Dean”, Sam replied, looking into his brother’s eyes and spreading his legs, inviting Dean to kneel between his thighs. “I want you. And like you said, you know how this works. I trust you.”

That was all Dean needed to hear. He slicked up one finger and pushed gently around Sam’s hole, trying to loosen him up. “You gotta just breathe out, Sammy, and try to relax, all right?”

“Yeah, all right, I can”, oh holy fuck, that was Dean’s finger inside him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had a finger inside himself a few times when he was alone, so it didn’t take long for him to adjust and push back against it, breathing out heavily, “Please, Dean, more, come on.”

Dean lubed up again and pushed two fingers inside his brother’s entrance, moving in and out slowly until he could feel Sam’s muscles get even more relaxed. He added another finger, generously slicked up and very slowly, not wanting to hurt Sam in any way.

It did hurt, though. Sam tried to keep it off his face, but it hurt, that third finger slipping inside him. At the same time, it felt so damn good, he was sure Dean would not be able to tell the difference between pleasure and pain in what has at this point become full-on moaning and wailing. He was dead wrong about that.

“Is it too much, Sam? You want me to stop?”

“If you stop I will throttle you to death with my bare hands, I swear to Christ.”

Dean teased him and opened him up with pushing fingers, prodding touches against Sam’s skin, insistent tongue along his throat. Finally, Sam found the strength to put a few words together, but all he could manage was pathetic begging. “Fuck me, Dean, please, come on, I’m ready, just”

“All right, Sammy. Um, I think it’s easier if you’re turned around, though.”

Sam gave him a bitchface (Jesus, only Sam could manage a bitchface in the middle of getting fucked by his goddamn brother), but complied because Dean was the one who knew what he was doing. He folded his arms across the edge of the futon and rested his head on them while Dean slicked up his cock and angled Sam’s hips, pressing against his entrance but stopping short of pushing inside.

“Ask me if I’m sure one more time, Dean, and I’ll clock you right in the fucking jaw.”

Well, okay then. Dean pushed his dick inside, just the head, giving Sam a minute to steady himself before sliding the rest of the way in. Sam pulled in a hitched breath and cursed again, but moved back against Dean, encouraging him to move. Dean started slowly, Sam was so tight around him that he could barely get in and out, but after a minute or two it got a little easier and Sam was pretty damn enthusiastic, so Dean picked up the pace as he held on, one hand on Sam’s hip and one on his shoulder. 

Not surprisingly, it wasn’t long before Dean could feel his orgasm approaching from the tight heat around his cock and the obscene sounds his brother was making, broken up only by the occasional “Fuck, Dean, so fucking good, please, want you, Dean, Dean, Dean…” He managed to move the hand he had on Sam’s shoulder around so that he was fisting Sam’s cock and within a moment they were both over the edge, Sam shooting his orgasm over Dean’s hand with a strangled shout, Dean coming hard with his brother’s name on his lips. 

While they caught their breath, the question was in both of their minds once again.

What now?

“So, uh, we just did that.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to say, lying there naked on a futon next to his thoroughly fucked brother, so he just replied, “Yep. We did.”

“You’re not going to, like, flip your lid and disappear in the morning or anything, right?”

“Don’t think so. You’re not going to get all angsty and toss me out on my ass in the morning, right?”

“Nope. I’m too happy that I don’t have to pretend about this anymore.”

“Glad to hear it, Samantha”, Dean responded. “Seriously, though, me too. It was a pain in the ass trying to not stare at you when you came out of the shower in just a towel.”

“I hear you on that, man. Things don’t have to be weird. Like you said before, we can have this if we want it. And we want it. So, you know. We can have it.”

“Course we can, Sammy.”

Sam had scooted onto his side and was still holding onto Dean, but with enough distance so that they could look at each other while they had their first post-incest conversation. He’d thought it might be awkward, but surprisingly enough, it was kind of casual, like there was this space where they could be together and still be brothers. 

“There’s no way we can make this completely un-complicated, you know that, right? I mean, Dad’s going to be here next month for Thanksgiving, and my guess is that announcing that we’re sleeping together might not be something he’ll include on the things for which he is thankful this year.”

Dean laughed, really laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think we need to let him in on that bit of information. He’s got enough cardiac risk factors as it is.”

They were both quiet for a long while, still pressed against each other and trying to figure out what to do next. 

“I should go to bed. Can’t be out here in case the baby wakes up.”

“This place isn’t exactly **spacious** , Sam. We’ll hear him if he cries. Just stay. I mean, unless you”

“Fuck, shut up, no, I’d rather stay here with you. I can get into bed when your alarm goes off in the morning.”

Christ, the alarm. Dean had to be to work at 6am and it was already closing in on 2:00. “Shit, it’s late. I should try to get in at least a little sleep before I have to spend the day changing sheets and feeding sick people.”

“Sorry, man. Let’s both try to get some rest, all right?” Sam manhandled Dean so that he was facing the opposite direction and pulled him close with an arm around his chest. 

“Why am I the little spoon? I’m older”, Dean said sleepily, without much complaint evident in his words.

“Because I’m bigger, dumbass. Now go to sleep.” Sam kissed the back of Dean’s neck and folded their knees together. 

Dean didn’t mind at all, which meant _nothing_ in terms of how manly he was. No shame in being the little spoon sometimes, right?

Sometimes. Which meant this was going to happen again. That was the jist of their conversation, that this wasn’t a one-time deal. Neither of them were losing their marbles over it. That was certainly a positive sign. 

So, this was their life. Cooking, working, occasional hunting. Changing diapers, playing with Jay, taking walks to the park. Paying bills, having arguments about whose turn it was to take the laundry down to the washers and dryers in the basement. Having sex. A lot of sex. 

Dean had started looking into taking classes for an EMT certification, and was still badgering Sam about school. For his part, Sam had promised to contact the admissions office at Stanford about being re-admitted part time, at least for one or two night classes a semester, starting the next fall and not in January, as Dean had hoped.

“That’s not enough time. What if I can’t get my scholarship reinstated?”

“You can get some more of that financial aid, like you got when” Aw, hell. He hadn’t meant to bring that up, and his face betrayed his feelings.

“It’s okay, Dean, I know what I did. And you’re right, that’s always an option, though it’ll put me in debt up to my eyeballs.”

“You’ll pay it off when you’re a hotshot lawyer, kid. Don’t worry about that now. I meant what I said when I first got here. You worked your ever-loving ass off, against every obstacle that was thrown at you, to get yourself a college education. I’m not going to sit here and watch you give up on that. So you can’t go to school full-time, fine, it might take longer than you expected. But you can make it happen. _We_ can make it happen. 

A couple of weeks later, Sam rushed in the front door babbling something incoherent. “Slow down, dude, what’s going on?”

“He said da-da. Seriously. I mean it this time, he really said it. Jay. Come on. Da-da. Say da-da.”

“Da-da”, Jay repeated. “Da-da-da-da-da-da.”

“That’s right, little man, I’m your da-da. I’m your daddy”, Sam replied, pointing at himself. 

Jay stuck out his finger and pressed it into Sam’s chest. “Da-da.”

Both brothers weren’t ashamed to admit they felt their hearts melting. 

Sam handed the baby over to his uncle (they still hadn’t decided how they were going to explain the relationship, but they had time), beaming that teeth-and-dimples grin that never failed to make Dean’s stomach do little flips. 

Jay looked up at him and did that poking thing with his finger again. 

“De”

No freaking way. 

Dean’s life kicked ass. He had a flashback of Sammy tugging at his hand when he was barely old enough to walk, his face dirty and his hair in his eyes already. “De. Run!”

He never wanted to run with anything the way he wanted to run with this, his brother and his nephew, who he was thinking of more as a son with each passing day. He was never leaving. Never, never, not fucking ever.


	2. What Now? Thanksgiving Timestamp - Our Portion Here Below

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John accepts his invitation to Thanksgiving dinner with his sons and grandson.

Sam was doing his level best to remain calm, but he’d not been successful. The idea of seeing his father after more than two years, especially since his circumstances had changed so significantly, made him dizzy with anxiety. He channeled the energy into cleaning, like he had before Dean had shown up several months before. 

 

Once the bathroom was practically sparkling, the floors were scrubbed until his muscles ached, and his carefully constructed cooking schedule had been completed, Sam fell back onto the folded-up futon in the living room, wiping sweat from his brow. Dean’s job had been to keep Jay occupied and happy while Sam was immersed in his cleaning and organizing binge. Of course, Dean had done a fine job of supervising the baby as he carefully explored his new skill of moving around on his own two feet as long as he was holding on to something. 

 

Dean knew that the array of cleaning products were part of his brother’s safety arsenal. When he didn’t want to think, Sam cleaned. Obsessively. It was one of the things he’d learned to accept since the summer, and he steered clear so that Sammy could complete his tasks uninterrupted. 

 

“You all right, there, Sammy?”

 

“M’fine, just need to baste one more time and I’ve got”, he paused to look at his watch, “eighteen minutes before the sweet potato casserole goes into the oven.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and looked Jay in the face. “Your daddy’s flipping his lid. Don’t worry, kid, it happens.”

 

Jay’s response was to shove his little stuffed dog into Dean’s face for a kiss. “De!”

 

And for the love of God, there was nothing that melted his heart like hearing Jay make that sound, that one tiny sound that Sam had made when he was a baby. 

 

The sound of Sam’s phone ringing had the brothers at attention immediately. 

 

“Dad?”

 

“Yeah, Sam, it’s me, just wanted to make sure you knew that I’ll be there soon. Less than an hour. I’m almost there. You need me to stop for anything on the way?” John’s tone was casual, as if a visit between father and sons was some regular thing, but there was an undercurrent of apprehension there. 

 

“Thanks, Dad, but we’re good. Got everything we need right here. All you need to do is show up.” For a second, Sam was afraid he’d said something wrong, like the “show up” comment was some kind of jab, which it wasn’t intended to be. 

 

“All right, son, see you soon.”

 

Sam disconnected the call and took a deep, steadying breath. Dean placed Jay into his playpen with a few toys and settled down next to his brother, gently carding his fingers through Sam’s hair. “You sure you’re ready for this, man?”

 

“Jay’s his grandson. He has every right to meet him, hell, to _know_ him. It’s just…the way we left things…”

“Hey”, Dean replied, turning and catching Sam’s jaw so they were looking into each other’s eyes, “I get it. But look at us. It’s not like we exactly parted on good terms, but we managed to get past it. You can do that with Dad, too.”

 

Sam managed a weak smile at that last comment. “Well, I can do some things with Dad, not the same as what I do with you.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, but you know the two of us were good before all _this_ started,” gesturing between himself and his brother, “we just had to get used to being around each other again, give it a chance, and look how great everything has turned out so far. It’s gonna be fine, Sam.”

 

“What if he figures it out?” Sam half-whispered, looking at the floor. “You and me, together, like this, he’ll probably murder us both in cold blood and with malice aforethought.”

 

“There’s my pre-law Sammy. Anyway, he’s not going to find out, he already said he’s getting a hotel and not staying overnight, so sleeping arrangements aren’t a problem.”

 

“Yeah, but we both know how finely honed his instincts are. One look or word between us could easily tip him off. I know we can’t rush it, but I want so badly for this to be a time for us to heal, no fighting, no yelling, no accusations…”

 

“Don’t you go borrowing trouble, Sam. No good comes of that, and you know it. Just go put in the damn casserole. Why you had to top it with pecans instead of marshmallows is beyond me, but I’m sure you have your reasons.”

 

“I got the recipe from Food Network,” Sam responded, “Plus, it was so easy, even I couldn’t fuck it up. Probably.” He hauled himself up and headed back into the kitchen. “Would you mind changing Jay into something, you know, uh, nice…and if you could try to make sure there’s nothing stuck in his hair…”

 

Dean cut him off at that point. “Yeah, I’ll do it, of course, but Dad’s gonna love Jay with everything he’s got the minute he looks at him, no matter what he’s wearing.”

 

The knock at the door froze them both for just a minute, but Sam decided he’d do the same thing he did when Dean showed up – open the door with his son held tight to his hip.

 

He told John to come in, and didn’t get a chance to say anything else before he felt his father’s arms reach out to embrace him and the baby.

 

“Good to see you son”, John whispered close to Sam’s ear before stepping back to get a look at his grandchild. The boy seemed to be equally curious, staring back at John like he was trying to get a read on him. 

 

“Dinner’s almost ready. Dad, this is Jay”, he said, cautiously, waiting for what kind of reaction John would have. 

 

The response couldn’t have been more surprising.

 

“Christ, Sam, it’s like looking at you. Exactly like you, when you were a baby. Hi, Jay. Hi there, buddy.”

 

Sam told Jay, though he knew the child had no way to comprehend what he was saying, “This is your grandpa. He’s my Da-da, and your Uncle Dean’s Da-da, too. Grandpa.”

 

John stared at the boy, his eyes filled with wonder and his gut churning with anxiety. Before he even had a chance to ask, Sam was holding the boy out toward him, urging John to hold him. It wasn’t easy, there was still a fair amount of anger in his heart, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Anger or no, he didn’t have the heart to wait for John to muster up what it would have taken to simply ask if he could hold Jay.

 

As John gathered the child into his arms, he was still a bit shocked to be here, to take in the reality of his sons raising a child on their own. Dean chose this moment to show himself, and easily hugged his Dad, planting a kiss on the top of Jay’s head. 

 

“Dean. It’s been a while. Guess you know a little bit more about this whole situation than I do.”

 

“Yeah, Dad, I do, but let’s deal with that later. You keep Jay so that Sam and I can put the finishing touches on Thanksgiving dinner, all right?”

 

“Yeah, um…yeah, of course, he doesn’t seem to think I’m stranger danger, at least”, John replied with a smile. 

 

Dean and Sam set out the places on the new (to them) kitchen table they’d picked up at Goodwill and occasionally stole a glance at John giggling and shaking Jay’s little stuffed dog to make him laugh. 

 

If he’d ever been like that when Dean was little, Dean certainly had no memory of it, and neither did Sam.

 

Shockingly enough, the dinner conversation had almost nothing to do with the change in Sam’s circumstances. John and Dean shared hunting stories, and Sam laughed along with them while trying to get Jay to use his own tiny little Thomas the Train fork and feed himself. He spit out his first bite of the sweet potato casserole.

 

Overall, it was a quiet evening, Sam explaining how he ended up here much the same way he’d described it to Dean months ago, but without any of the panic that went along with his call to Dean. 

 

They got through dinner without too much drama. They were all impressed with the meal Sam had put together for Thanksgiving. John implored Sam to return to school, Dean told John to get off Sam’s case, and they ended up just enjoying each other’s company for a few hours.

 

It reminded John of how he’d spent this particular holiday with various family and friends when he was a kid, something he’d never been able to provide for his sons. 

 

That was all right, though. They were giving it to Sam’s son, he felt certain that Dean and Sam could do so much better than he’d done. His sons didn’t say anything about how long they expected this arrangement to last, but they certainly seemed settled in here. There was something else, though, something between his boys that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Like that phase when they were kids and had made up their own language to keep their conversations private. John brushed it off like he always had – his sons had a much stronger connection to each other than they’d ever had to him, he’d accepted that many years ago.

 

When dinner was done and John headed back to his hotel, his mind was filled with gratitude for having met his grandson, thanks for his sons sticking together in a difficult situation, and hope for rebuilding his relationship with both his sons. He fell into his bed with Jay’s scent still all over him. He decided he’d take what he could get, while he could get it, His little bit of family time here and there, maybe getting a chance to see his grandchild now and then. Obviously he’d always wanted his sons to make lives for themselves away from hunting. He tried not to think too much about how the boys looked at each other, the symbiotic way they moved, each anticipating the other’s movements constantly. It was somehow different than it had been when they were younger. All he knew for sure was that there was a shift in the dynamics. 

 

It could only be a good thing, how Sam and Dean had settled into a good routine, John thought…they made each other happy and they made his grandson happy. 

 

After John was gone, the dishes cleaned and the leftovers put away, Dean wrapped his brother into a tight embrace. 

 

“You have to admit he did good, Sammy”, he said, kissing Sam on the shoulder. 

 

Sam’s response was stolen from a hymn Pastor Jim had taught them a lifetime ago. 

 

He placed his mouth next to Dean’s ear, whispering, “Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.”


	3. What Now? Christmas Timestamp - Sing In Exultation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jay’s first Christmas, and kind of, Dean and Sam’s first Christmas.

Amazing is what it was, mind-blowing, really, a miracle almost on caliber with the miracle celebrated in this season, as far as Dean was concerned. He didn’t share Sam’s religious faith, but he certainly didn’t judge his brother for it. Six months ago, he’d been leading a solitary life, one that was in danger of _ending_ his life, quite literally, on almost a day to day basis. Now he was finding love, the kind of love he never thought was possible for him. Dean’s relationship with Sam was an unshakeable bond, and he was absolutely certain that would have been a fact regardless of the sexual relationship they’d started. Dean knew that even if neither of them had those feelings toward each other, or just had never acted on them, they’d still be this close, Sam would still be happy to share his life with his brother, and Dean would still revel in his favorite pastime – spoiling his nephew Jay absolutely rotten. 

Growing up, Sam and Dean hadn’t experienced family Christmas celebrations like other kids their age. A couple of years, their dad (neither of them could even imagine how horribly John had felt when this happened) hadn’t made it back to them until the day or two after. Dean had played Santa for Sammy more than once, and Chinese takeout eaten from paper containers with plastic forks became their traditional holiday meal for a good long time.

This year, though…this year it would be different. Dean had lugged a six-foot Douglas fir up the stairwell into their apartment, along with Wal-Mart bags filled with lights and silly ornaments that were made of materials Dean was sure Jay wouldn’t be injured by when he inevitably tried to pull them out of the branches. The damn tree barely fit into a corner of their tiny living room, but Dean wanted so badly to do it _right_ , to do it the way Sam had always longed for, the **normal** way. 

Jay was still cruising the furniture and taking little steps when Sam or Dean held his hand, but he fell right onto his diapered butt when he tried to stand on his own. He was _this close_ , Dean thought, so fucking close to taking his first steps. 

The three of them had a ball decorating the tree, especially the baby, who seemed to be entranced by the strands of tinsel. Getting him to stop trying to eat them was a challenge all by itself. They settled for letting him cover his few little stuffed animals with it, creating a shiny silver batch of playtoys. 

After their Thanksgiving visit, they’d kept in contact regularly with their father, giving him updates on Jay’s latest antics and milestones. Neither Sam nor Dean had any idea how much it meant to John that they made the effort to stay in touch and keep him updated about new foods the baby had tried and new things he’d done. Even at his age, just shy of a year, Jay had managed to add a few words to his vocabulary, mainly **no** and **mine**. Yet another parallel with his father, among the boy’s first words were those illustrated by his stubborn and protective streak. 

Once the tree was decorated, the baby was peacefully sleeping in his crib, and the beers had been cracked open, the brothers stopped to admire their handiwork. Sure, it was a little bit crooked and the decorations didn’t match, but it was a major improvement over eating takeout in a motel room watching A Christmas Story and guessing which of them would manage to shoot his eye out first. 

Falling into his brother’s embrace, Sam figured he couldn’t have gotten more lucky if he’d won the fucking PowerBall. Having Dean there to share Jay’s first Christmas meant more to him than he ever thought it would. 

On the night of Christmas Eve, the two of them sat on the floor by the tree wrapping gifts, little things they’d picked up along with the couple of presents John had sent the week before. There wasn’t much, but what the hell, Jay was a baby and didn’t understand any of this. The things they’d done were more for each other than they were for Jay. A way of reassuring each other that what they had was _real_ , it was solid and made them feel more safe than either of the brothers had realized they’d missed until they actually had it. 

After a while, the wrapping paper and tape and scissors were put away and the lights on the tree were lending an ethereal glow to the living room. Sam walked from the kitchen into the living room to take in the sight of Dean lounging on the floor in just a pair of old sweatpants, munching on one of the cookies they’d left for Santa and looking up at their Christmas tree like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He stood for a minute just to take in the sight of Dean, to brand this memory into his brain. Dean was so fucking gorgeous, and Sam couldn’t keep his distance any longer. He crossed the room and sank to his knees, placing one of his hands on Dean’s thigh and using the other to wipe the cookie crumbs from his lips. 

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

“Course I know that, Sammy”, he replied, smirking and leaning forward to kiss Sam softly on the lips. “Just glad you know it too.”

“Jerk”, Sam whispered, as he pulled Dean in for a much less chaste kiss. He figured he’d successfully managed to make Dean forget the cookies when he reached down and tucked his fingers into the waistband of Sam’s old red and white Stanford sleep pants. Sam lifted himself up a bit to allow Dean to remove them, then just as quickly divested Dean of his sweats. After a few minutes of kissing and teasing, they were both completely worked up, breathing hard and trying to get their hands on as much of each other as they possibly could. They ended up with Dean flat on his back, Sam leaning over him, still on his knees between Dean’s legs. Sam leaned down and captured one of Dean’s nipples between his teeth, resulting in Dean’s breath hitching as he stifled a moan. He moved to give Dean’s other nipple the same treatment, then steadily worked his way south until he was in a position to lick a stripe along the underside of Dean’s cock before swallowing down as much of him as he possibly could all at once. 

“Fuck, Sam, you’re like the blowjob ninja – ohhhhh hell, baby, yeah, so good,” he whispered. They’d both become quite adept at keeping the noise down, not wanting to have the mood killed by a waking baby in the next room. Still, when Sam started gently circling Dean’s hole with fingers slicked by his own spit and pre-come, Dean gasped and buried his hands in Sam’s hair. “Please, Sam, come on, want it.”

Sam was not interested in denying his brother’s wishes, nor was he in any mood to wait. He pulled his mouth off Dean’s dick and started working him open with his tongue and fingers, stopping every now and then to teasingly remind him not to make too much noise. Once he felt Dean was properly prepared, he lifted up and said “Shhhhhhh, baby, you ready? Gonna take me nice and quiet?”

Dean’s response was simply an enthusiastic nodding of his head as he wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist and Sam pushed forward slowly until he was buried all the way inside his brother. They remained still for just a moment, staring at each other intensely, before Sam started moving, shallow thrusts at first, then deeper, but keeping the pace slow, gentle. Dean ran his hands up and down Sam’s back and they kissed off and on as the pleasure gradually built and Sam couldn’t help but pick up speed. Dean met every thrust as he fisted his own cock between them. 

“Dean, fuck, I – I’m”

“Me too, Sammy, yeah”, Dean breathlessly replied just as he felt Sam go still above him, biting his lip to keep from crying out as he filled Dean up. Dean followed almost instantly, spilling over his hand and onto his belly and chest. 

In the moments that followed, Sam having pulled out and rolled onto the floor, they ignored the mess and just held each other, neither of them saying a word. There was no need for it, nothing to say that hadn’t already been said while they made love on the floor under the lights of the Christmas tree. 

After cleaning up and falling into a peaceful sleep in the bedroom (Dean didn’t sleep on the futon anymore, and they figured they’d deal with that as Jay got older just like they’d have to deal with all the other complications, but neither of them wanted to think about those things yet), they were woken with the sun by the familiar rattling sound from Jay’s favorite stuffed doggie. Dean was the first out of bed, and he gathered the baby into his arms, saying “Hey, Merry Christmas kiddo! Let’s get your Dad’s lazy butt out of bed and go open your presents, huh?” 

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, but got up and led Jay out to the living room. After showing him how to do it, Jay happily spent the next half an hour ripping off wrapping paper, then grabbing the next package without paying much attention to what he’d just unwrapped. Once the paper had been removed from everything, Dean and Sam showed Jay his presents, which he did finally show some interest in. Dean used his phone to take several photos, which he immediately sent to John. 

As he looked up from washing the breakfast dishes, Dean saw that Sam had put on jeans and a button-up shirt and was zipping Jay’s windbreaker (it was still early and just a bit chilly outside) and putting on his sneakers. He knew where they were headed, the little Methodist church on the next block, they’d talked about it a few days earlier.

“Sam, honestly, I don’t mind, if you want me to go with you, I’ll go.”

“I swear, it’s not a big deal. I meant what I said, I don’t expect you to do things like this out of some obligation. You know just being there would make you uncomfortable, and I’m never going to try to change you. Stay here and relax, enjoy the silence, we’ll be back in an hour, okay?”

Dean kissed him, feeling thankful for how well his brother understood and accepted him just as he was. “All right. I’ll see you in an hour.” He looked down at the stroller and said, “Jay, say hi to baby Jesus for me, buddy.”

Playfully, Sam smacked Dean on the arm, saying “Cut that out” and at the same time laughing quietly. “Back soon. Love you.”

It was something Sam said casually, like it was no big deal, but honestly, they didn’t say it all that much. Dean pulled his brother into his arms and held on tight for just a minute. “Love you too. Merry Christmas, Sammy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to acknowledge that Sam treats his girlfriend really disrespectfully as he intimidates her into having his baby when she does not want to go through with the pregnancy. Not nice, Sam.


End file.
